


Everybody Knows

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Points of View
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-31
Updated: 2007-05-16
Packaged: 2018-12-26 18:50:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: A post-220 Brian and Justin story inspired by some overindulgence and the music of Leonard Cohen. Contains no violence. -- (June 28, 2002 - July 4, 2002)





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: Inspired by the work of Leonard Cohen, author and chanteur of the sexiest, most honest songs ever recorded.  


* * *

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded  
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed  
Everybody knows that the war is over  
Everybody knows the good guys lost  
Everybody knows the fight was fixed  
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich  
That's how it goes  
Everybody knows

 

Taylor Residence, 2:58 a.m.

"Hello?"

The woman's voice was sympathetic but businesslike. "Hello, this is Sharon Carson. I'm a social worker at University Hospital. I'm sorry to impose, but may I ask your name?"

Jennifer yawned and turned on the bedside lamp. "It's Jennifer Taylor, and it's three o'clock in the morning! What is this regarding?" She ran her fingers through her hair and decided to just get up.

"We have a young man who came in this evening with no identification. We found this phone number, your phone number I mean, on the speed dial of his cell phone."

"Cell phone? I don't know any...Oh my God, Justin!" Jennifer's heart went cold. Dammit, not again! Another late-night phone call telling her she couldn't protect her child.

"Any help you can give us in identifying this man would be so helpful. He looks like he's in his late twenties or so. Tall man, with brown hair. Do you recognize that description?"

"Damn, it's Brian." Jennifer almost felt guilty about the relief that flooded through her body with that realization. "What's wrong with him?"

"I'm sorry, until we've established your relationship to him, we can't give out information about his condition."

"I'm his... well... I'm his mother." Were there any good euphemisms for possibly-ex-mother-in-law from a gay relationship? If there were, she hadn't been around long enough to find out. "I'll be right down."

Jennifer had driven to the hospital as quickly as she could, after making arrangements for Craig's sister to look after Molly. While she drove, she meditated on her motivation for going to see Brian in the first place. She wasn't sure what was going on between Justin and Brian right now, but Brian obviously needed someone to look after him. Not really knowing whom to call or what to do, she'd just gotten in her car and drove. She parked and found the social worker's office in a hallway just past the emergency department.

"Jennifer? Hi, I'm Sharon." The short, chubby woman smiled sympathetically and extended a hand. "I'm sorry that we couldn't meet under better circumstances, or at least during the day."

"Yes, of course. I'm not sure that I'm the first person you should have called, though."

Sharon sat behind a desk piled with folders, shuffling some loose papers. "I know that family business can be rough sometimes. We tried the first three numbers, but nobody was home. I can't leave this type of message on an answering machine. Besides, you're his mother! I'm sure that nobody is better qualified to be here."

"Oh, yes, I see. I mean, I am." Jennifer nodded with understanding. Everyone else was still at the Rage party, as far as she knew. Scratch that. Everyone was there except for Justin, who had left the party after kissing a stranger in the middle of the dance floor. She sighed heavily, fighting a growing feeling that Brian's latest drama had something to do with Justin.

"Good. Let me look at his chart here...okay, I see...well...this isn't as bad as it could be. Not to make light of the situation, but Brian's a very lucky man." Sharon was reading from a file folder and nodding at the observations written there.

"Well?" Jennifer was getting impatient, and her mind was racking the list of people to call. "I'd really like to know what's wrong, and go see him if I may."

"You'll have plenty of opportunity to see him, no need to worry. Like I said, he'll be just fine now, but we plan on holding him for observation for a day or two."

"Could we please get to the point?" Jennifer was confused, and tired, and she tried very hard to calmly and politely enunciate every word. "What happened to Brian?"

"I'm sorry, Jennifer. Brian was found unconscious in an alley behind a dance club, overdosed on alcohol and possibly Valium. Based on what they pumped out of his stomach, we don't think it was an accident. Brian tried to kill himself."


	2. Part 2

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking  
Everybody knows that the captain lied  
Everybody got this broken feeling  
Like their father or their dog just died  
Everybody talking to their pockets  
Everybody wants a box of chocolates  
And a long stem rose  
Everybody knows

 

It's 6 a.m., and I have a terrible feeling in my stomach that I can't shake. Not actually in my stomach, but that place where I feel a twinge whenever Brian looks at me. The place that heats up when he touches me. Contrary to popular opinion, it's not my cock.

Ethan is still asleep, his head thrown back against the pillow and a little smile on his face. I always worry about him banging his head on the walls here; his pillows are so thin. I did mention it to him once, but he brushed me off, saying, "That's the life of the starving artist, Justin. It's full of sacrifices." Funny, I haven't had to make any up until now.

That feeling is getting worse, and I can't put it out of my mind. Something is wrong. I slip out of bed, padding across the room to get my cell out of my clothes. It's turned off, and I immediately start to worry about my Mom. I call the house - no answer. Her cell isn't answering either. I dress quickly and return to the bed to wake Ethan. After last night, I don't want to run off and give him the wrong idea.

Ethan really isn't bad in bed. He's kind. He's patient. He really believes in giving and receiving, and I'm telling you that's a nice change of pace. Every moment is flowers and romance, and I never, ever for a second doubt that in this bed, I am loved. Problem is, I never doubted it in Brian's bed either...just everywhere else.

I lean in to touch his face, and his eyes open up. He smiles until I tell him I have to go.

"No, Justin, stay. I've never had you all to myself for a day. Let's go to the library."

Not the best offer I've gotten on a Saturday morning, but it's sweet. I can't, though, not while this feeling is tearing holes in my stomach.

"I'm sorry, I want to check on my mom. I never said goodbye. She's not answering the phone, and I have to make sure everything is okay." I have to get out of here, and I'm thinking, "I'll say anything at this point, just for God's sakes, Ethan, let me go without the drama."

"Well, I suppose I can allow it, but just this once. Say hello to your mother for me." He pecks me on the cheek and promptly goes back to sleep. Geez, he acts as if five minutes in a club and a couple of fucks are the most tiring night he's ever had! I'm out of there and on the bus to Mom's before his head hits the pillow.

***

"What do you mean she's not here?"

My aunt Flora sighs and shakes her head. "Sorry, Justin, she's not. I got a call at 3 o'clock this morning asking to come look after Molly for the day." Auntie Flo gestures towards the living room, saying, "You can come in and wait for her, I'm sure Molly would love to see you."

I haven't seen Mollusc in a while, but that feeling in my gut is getting stronger. Still standing on the porch, I pull out my phone and dial Mom's cell again. No answer. I'm worried about Mom, but there's nothing more I can do. I'm almost ready to catch the bus back to Ethan's when it hits me, all at once.

It's Brian. Something is wrong with Brian. 

I don't know why I didn't think of it before.

I have no idea why I get the urge to call the hospitals, but I do it anyways. I'm on my third call when a friendly night receptionist confirms that, yes, Brian Kinney is an inpatient. I ask for his condition and room number, and she becomes guarded. "I'm sorry, I can't give out that information unless you're a relative."

Shouldn't she have asked that before? I don't even need to think about a lie; it just flies out of my mouth. I'm getting too good at this. "I'm his brother, and I copied down all his information wrong. Could you pass it along to me? He'll be thrilled to see me, and I miss him too." Hey, it's not lying if they make you lie, and besides, at least one truth is in there somewhere.

"He's in room A322, in serious condition. Remember, hospital policy states no flowers for allergy reasons."

Holy shit, maybe he's in the right place after all. A place with no flowers and no reminders of happy hetero romances would be just his style. I catch the bus again, and transfer to the hospital route, too scared to think of anything except how annoying it is to be on the bus.

I'm not worried about finding him. To me, the hospital isn't a maze anymore - I spent practically all summer here last year. I could find a penny hidden in the halls of this place. I know exactly where A322 is; it's one floor down from my physical therapist's office. I think I know everything about this place.

Correction - I know everything except why my mom is sitting in the hallway, staring at the door to Brian's room.

"Mom, what's going on? What's wrong with Brian?" I'm whispering, but I'm panicking so much my voice is getting higher with every word.

Mom sighs and stretches her arms over her head. "What are you doing here? Well, no matter now. Brian's not well, Justin. You'd better sit down."

Now I'm really worried. Mom hasn't looked this upset since Molly broke her arm falling out of the apple tree in the backyard. People say she was worried about me when I got bashed, but I didn't see that until later. I'm pretty sure she was mostly just exasperated with me at that point.

"Mom, just tell me. I'm sure whatever I'm thinking is ten times worse."

"Not this time, sweetie." She motions for me to sit beside her, and I do. She takes my hand solemnly, and wow, does she ever look tired. Her voice sounds so old. "Brian tried to kill himself last night, and he nearly succeeded."

"OH MY GOD!" I don't mean it to come out in that strangled cry, but it does anyways. Mom gives me a sympathetic pat and asks me to keep it down. "But Mom, I can't. This is my fault. I did this to him. Fuck... sorry Mom...but if I hadn't left with Ethan...." My voice trails off, and now I'm crying.

Mom reaches into her purse for a tissue, and hands it to me without comment. I lay my head on her shoulder and cry for the longest time. God, it hurts, it hurts! I didn't mean to do this to him. I just wanted some fucking romance, I didn't want him dead! Mom sighs and finger-combs my hair while I'm trying to calm down.

"Sweetheart, it's not your fault. Mentally stable people do not try to kill themselves. Relationships break up all the time without people deciding their lives are over."

I know she believes that, but she's feeding me a line. I was his life, as much as he would let me be. I took everything he offered, and demanded more, until he'd given me himself...and then I walked away. How could this NOT be my fault?

Mom shakes me gently out of my thoughts. "You have to be quiet, sweetheart. He doesn't know I'm here. I've seen him, but he was asleep...They think I'm his mother."

I laugh at that, but it's bitter. "You're kidding."

"No, they called me at home. How long has the condo been on Brian's speed dial?"

"Since you bought it. He calls sometimes when I'm watching Molly."

"I bet," she looks at the floor with a sly grin, and I playfully punch her arm. "Not like that!"

We can't stay giggly, though. Mom sighs. "We need to call everyone. They'll want to know what happened."

Shit. I don't want her calling everyone, because I'm sure as hell that nobody wants ME here. This is still my fault, and I'm quite sure nobody's going to hold back on that topic.

"Just let me in to see him for a minute first, then I'll go."

She grabs my arm to hold me back. "Justin, no. I saw you with that boy last night, and so did he. We all did, honey. I'm pretty sure you're not on the top of his list today."

"I have to tell him I'm sorry. I never wanted this! He can't do this to me." I'm sobbing now, worse than the smallest girl or the biggest fairy. I kneel next to Mom's knees and cry on her lap until I can't breathe, until my eyes are hot and my forehead is sweating and I feel like I'm going to throw up.

"Shhh, Justin, it'll be okay. Everything will work out. Right now you need to go and make some phone calls." She kisses the top of my head, just like Brian does, did, and my thoughts come in a rush:

oh...my...god...

I...can'tdothis....

he could have died....he almost died...

Briannn...

"Go, sweetie. It helps to have something to do." Mom is firm, but sympathetic. I guess it's a mother thing.

"What do I say?" I'm still snivelling, and I'm sure I look gross with snot by now.

"Call Melanie and ask her to meet us here. Nobody else yet." Mom sounds like she's thought this through, and I have to admire that. You could drop a house right next to her and she wouldn't bat an eye.

"Okay." I can do that. Just one call. Just Melanie. Nobody would be in screaming hysterics besides me. Mom and Mel would be able to sort all this out. I'm okay. I can do this.

I'm on my way to the parking lot when I turn back with an afterthought. "What made you say you're his mother?" I'm jealous, and it shows.

For the first time, I think the first time in my whole life, she looks really angry with me. "Dammit, Justin, you've spent two years convincing me you loved this man, begging me to see his good side. Well you know what? I've come to care for him a lot. He helped you back to life when nobody else could. Just because you've decided to be finished with him, doesn't mean I have. I couldn't leave him alone in a hospital while his friends went off and had a party."

If I felt bad before, I felt ten times worse after she said that. I guess you shouldn't ask a question when you already know the answer.

Suddenly that phone call sounds like a great idea.


	3. Part 3

Everybody knows that you love me baby  
Everybody knows that you really do   
Everybody knows that you've been faithful   
Give or take a night or two   
Everybody knows you've been discreet   
But there were so many people you just had to meet   
Without your clothes   
And everybody knows

 

One Month Earlier 

*** 

The Loft, 3:37 a.m. 

"Justin," Brian slid closer to Justin's back, resting his arm over his sleeping lover. He leaned in closer to whisper in the blonde's ear. "Justin, are you awake?" 

"Hmmm?" Justin murmured, rolling over to slide a leg between Brian's. He snuggled his head into the crook of Brian's shoulder, whispering, "Okay, I'm up." 

Brian felt Justin stretch a little bit, and snuggle closer. Justin opened his eyes. "Did you have that nightmare again?" 

"I don't have nightmares." 

Justin knew that that wasn't true. He did have nightmares, and they happened almost every night. The first time Brian had jumped and cried out in his sleep, Justin had been up like a rocket, making such a fuss that Brian almost kicked him out altogether. Sometimes Justin wondered if that might be the real reason Brian never tricked with anyone for more than one night. He never had the nightmares when he'd been drinking or passed out exhausted from marathon fucking-- so there would never be anyone with tales to tell about Brian Kinney. It was only on the nights when he went to bed relatively happy and sober that his mind broke loose. 

Justin knew that when a person was tormented like that every single night, it meant that something was seriously wrong. Brian didn't want to talk about it, so he'd learned just to be there and keep Brian in the moment as much as he could. Letting Brian hear his voice and feel his touch was the best medicine, it seemed. 

Secretly, Brian was glad to have Justin there with him in the dark. Although maybe it wasn't much of a secret anymore, since everybody seemed to know about it. Everybody thought he was in love with Justin, and didn't hold back from saying so. Even Brian himself couldn't say yes or no - it might be true, but he never let that thought stay in his head long enough to know. 

Justin started tracing small circles on Brian's hip, placing his lips gently on his collarbone. "We don't have to talk about it." 

"I wasn't planning on it." 

Justin yawned, and Brian almost felt guilty for waking him up to deal with a fucked up mental patient. He didn't really have a choice anymore, though; Justin calmed him somehow, and he didn't want to spend the rest of his life subsisting on two or three hours of very bad sleep per night. 

When Justin finally spoke, it was softly and kindly. "Did you ever get to finish that book I bought for you?" 

"Justin, I don't read books about vampires," Brian answered solemnly. 

Justin laughed and gave his hip a little shove. "Sure, that's why you asked me to go and buy the...what...eleventh book in the series?" 

It was Brian's turn to laugh. "What can I say, I'm a sucker for pale boys at night," he replied, sliding his hand down Justin's back to cup his ass. 

Justin pressed his leg lightly against Brian's groin. "You don't need to tell ME that." He tilted his head back for a quick kiss, and smiled. "Do you want me to make us some breakfast now?" 

Brian turned to look at the clock on the night table, groaning when he saw the time. "Too early. I'll never get back to sleep." 

"Well, how about a back rub?" Justin began gliding his fingers up and down Brian's spine, causing him to shiver slightly. 

"That would work." 

Justin smiled. "Okay then, roll over." 

"That's my line." Brian retorted, turning to rest his face on the pillow. 

Justin hopped up to sit beside Brian, who relaxed quickly enough under Justin's soothing touch. When his muscles felt warm and fluid again, Justin leaned down and licked his ear. 

"Okay, roll over again. I want to do your front now." 

*** 

"Yeah, I'm sure you do," he said, but he did roll over. He always does when I'm doing this. 

I threw my leg over his hips, balancing on my knees so I could run my fingers up his smooth stomach to his chest, as I marvelled for like the ten millionth time at how beautiful he is.. He moaned as I started to gently massage his nipples, but I stopped when I leaned forwards to kiss him. I laid my hand on his stomach just above his hardening cock and took his right nipple in my mouth. Brian's hand found the back of my head as he moaned in pleasure. 

I swear sometimes I enjoy this even more than he does. After I spent a couple of minutes on his chest, my hand moved down to his pulsing cock as he murmured, 'Mmmmm…Justin… do it." I lifted my head, and he pulled me to his lips, pushing his frantic tongue between my teeth. Now it was my turn to groan with pleasure as I returned the passionate kiss. 

My grip on his cock had tightened, and I began to stroke him without even thinking. I pulled free of his lips-I had to see his eyes reflecting the blue lights, to let him know how much I loved him and loved doing this. His cock felt so good throbbing in my hand. 

Lightly my lips covered the top of him, testing him. My tongue rolled around the flared edge of his dick. Then my mouth engulfed him as I plunged down the length of his cock. Brian's hips bucked up and off the bed, slamming his dick down my throat. He moaned, "Oh, god, do it!" and I went wild. 

My lips flew up and down his cock, and my tongue swirled around the head on each upstroke. Hey, it's a move from a porn film, but he likes it. My fingers caressed his swollen balls, while I sucked him into my mouth again and again. 

"Justinnnnn..." Passion made his voice hoarse, and the sound made me even hotter. Both of Brian's hands tangled in my hair as I concentrated on his cock, sucking hard as I worked my tongue all around. His fingers tightened on my head as his cock swelled in my mouth. I felt his come race past my fingers, swelling the shaft on the way up. It filled my mouth in an instant. Hot, so hot. Brian's body eased down onto the bed, spent and totally relaxed. Good. His hand was stroking my back gently, and I could hear him working to catch his breath. 

I was beginning to drift back to sleep when he pushed me back and sucked down my whole cock in one motion. The shock of it was amazing. Every time Brian sucks me off, it's just so intense and so satisfying. My body shook as he took possession of me. His lips moved faster and became tighter as his tongue flicked me. My God, it felt so good and it sounded so wet, I couldn't last. His hands slid up my writhing body to find my nipples, pulling at my nipple ring until I cried out in pain and pleasure. When I thought nothing he could possibly do could feel any better than this, he took me deep into his throat, swallowing so that his throat would massage the head of my cock. I groaned and he knew I was almost there. 

Growling deep in his chest, Brian stopped moving and just sort of sucked with my cock still down his throat. Fireworks started going off behind my eyes, and my spine started to tingle. His breath caught in his throat, and he began swallowing as if our lives depended on it. I screamed when I came, and clutched at his hair until I was finished. Afterwards, he kept licking at the head of my dick until I had to pull him away. The sensations were just too much for me to take. He fought me gently, not willing to release me from his gentle torture. 

I pulled him up my body and kissed him long and deep, clutching his hard, slim body against me and tasting myself on his lips. He returned my kiss and held me tightly. 

We lay there on the soft bed in each other's arms for a while, just savouring the afterglow of our lovemaking. We didn't speak. I knew we didn't need to say the words when our actions had spoken so loudly. 


	4. Part 4

Everybody knows, everybody knows  
That's how it goes  
Everybody knows

 

I try to catch the phone on the first ring. Lindsay and Gus are sleeping in, and I don't want to wake them. This is a good opportunity to get some time to myself for a change. Not that I don't love them, but sometimes a woman needs her space.

"Hi Justin, do you know what time it is?" He's so sweet and polite, like always, but his voice sounds rough and panicky. I'm worried. He doesn't usually call at 8 o'clock on a Saturday morning, and I immediately ask him what's going on. 

"I can't really talk about it. Mom and I need you to come down to the hospital right away." 

"My God, Justin, what happened?" I don't like the sound of this. I've spent way too much time in hospitals on account of that kid. 

"Mel, you have to promise not to tell anybody anything. We're keeping this quiet." 

"Sure, Justin, of course." I'm gathering up my things as quietly as I can, trying to write a note and holding the phone with my shoulder all at the same time. Damn, can I multitask! "Whatever you say. Just tell me who's in the hospital." 

"It's Brian." Fuck. Should have known it would be him. It's always about him. I'm about to share a stream of curse words when Justin swallows and finishes his sentence. "He tried to kill himself." 

"WHAT?" 

"Last night. They found him outside Babylon. He's still not awake yet." 

"Holy fuck. I'll be right there." Okay, the note is done, and I'm reasonably well dressed for a Saturday. "What room is he in?" 

"A322." He's getting weepy again. "Please come down Mel, and don't tell anyone. I don't know what to do." 

"It's okay, Justin, it'll be okay. I'll be right there. Bye." I hang up the phone, check to make sure the note is where Lindsay will find it, and head out. Yes, again my life is revolving around Brian's melodrama. But this time he's taking us all down with him. 

*** 

"Hello?" Damn, what time is it? 

"Ethan, it's me." 

Wow, that was fast. It's only 8:30, and didn't he just leave a few minutes ago? "Hey, wasn't there something wrong with your mom? Is she okay?" 

"She's...fine. Molly's fine. We have a friend at the hospital." 

"Oh God, I hope everything's okay. Who is it?" 

The line seems to go dead. He's not saying anything, louder than anyone I've ever met. I'm not an idiot. No name means it can only be one person. "It's Brian." 

"Yeah. I'm staying. He hasn't regained consciousness yet. I can't leave him here alone." He sounds so...hurt. So sad. I'm not hurt or sad, and he needs to know it. 

"After what you did to him last night, he's not going to want to see you." Okay, so it's bitchy, but it's true. 

"I know this is my fault, and I can't just walk away like nothing ever happened." He sounds defeated, and it makes me angry that even an unconscious Brian has more power over him than I do. 

"Justin, is our relationship always going to be about Brian?" 

I just can't get a rise out of him. He calmly says, "Ethan, I'm really sorry that this is happening at a bad time for us, but I can't change it. Do you know what I'd give to go back and do things over again?" 

Now I'm getting pissed off. "So this is a mistake. We're a mistake. I'm your big, giant mistake. Thanks a lot." 

The calm is gone. He's tearing up, and I can hear him sniffling through the phone. I feel like shit for making him cry, but damn, I'm sick of everything being about Brian! He's always over my shoulder. When we're talking, he's there. When we're eating dinner, out on the street, or watching television, he's there. And when we're making love, sometimes I think that I'm the one that's NOT there. 

I think he's composed himself now, but he's still having trouble talking. "I'm sorry. I could say it a thousand times and you'd never believe me, so I'll won't do it. I never meant for this to happen. I don't know when I'll be able to see you again, but I'll check the messages on my cell if you want to talk." 

"Justin, that won't be necessary. You're on your own. I'm sure that whatever happened, it's not all that bad. He's using you, again, and you're letting him do it, again. I don't want to sit here and listen to that." 

He's trying to disagree...something about someone dying or something. It sounds like a theatrical pile of crap to me. 

"How did you know he was there, anyways? Did he call you? Did you call him?" 

Now he's really crying, but he's not disagreeing. I've had enough. "Justin, I'm in love with you, but I won't be in a relationship with someone who doesn't love me back. I deserve better than this bullshit melodrama. You know where to find me if you want to apologize." 

He's trying to calm down, trying to say something about us, but I don't want to hear it. Finally he manages a coherent sentence. "I loved being with you, and our time together was special, but I should never have started a new relationship while I was still so much in the old one. I know we won't still be friends, just try not to hate me, okay?" Damn, he's lost it and I can just picture him leaning against a wall, crying his eyes out. For a minute, there's nothing but faint crying, then I hear his ragged breath as he comes back on the line. 

"I have to go." 

I grunt a goodbye and hang up the phone. Shit. I want to feel sorry for him, but I'm so angry and hurt at being jerked around that I just can't manage it. To hell with Brian Kinney. I hope he gets what he deserves.


	5. Part 5

And everybody knows that it's now or never  
Everybody knows that it's me or you  
And everybody knows that you live forever  
When you've done a line or two  
Everybody knows the deal is rotten  
Old Black Joe's still pickin' cotton  
For your ribbons and bows  
And everybody knows

 

Babylon 2:38 a.m. 

I can't get you out of my head. I've had seven double shots of JD since you left, and I can't stop seeing you kiss that Ethan kid. It's fucking stuck, like an old record with a bad skip in it. I keep playing it over and over: Me fucking that Rage guy, you walking to the back room...big eyes, you get such big eyes when you're sad...watching you walk away. 

Me finishing with the trick-- it's not like I was into him in the first place. Following you out to the dance floor. You and him, talking. Everybody watching you, thinking, 'Oooh, who's that?' Me wanting to scream, 'It's his fucking lover, just in case you want to laugh at me-so go for it.' Then you kissed him, and I swear my fucking heart stopped. I don't think it's started again yet. 

It's the pity, I can't stand the fucking pity. 

You have to fuck around, that's fine, you're nineteen fucking years old. You want someone to buy you roses and birthday presents and write love poems, well, fucking go nuts, 'cause that sure as hell isn't me. The back room has the same old guys as every night, nobody I wanna fuck but that one's got something I need. Hey buddy, give me a bump, I could use it right now. Good. Now fuck off. 

Dammit, do you know what you did? Fuck, I hate this word, but you cuckolded me. No, worse, you made me into the injured wife while you were sucking on his tongue in front of everyone we know. 

Goddammit, I trusted you! I never thought you'd go out of your way to fuck with my head like this. What happened to Mr. "I'm Onto You?" Where the fuck is the brave kid who came home with me? You were teaching me to be brave. I didn't know I was teaching you to be cold. 

Where is the boy who used to chase me around and badger me until he got his way? Fuck, didn't you always get your way? Your prom was our prom. My home was our home. Turns out your rules were my rules, and you could do whatever the fuck you wanted. You piss me off. There is one thing, just one fucking thing I cannot give you and suddenly it's the only thing you want. Well, fuck you, I've given you enough. 

If you want to hear the words, you can have them. 

You just can't have them from me. 

If you don't know by now that I care about you, I can't help you. If you can't see how much I fucked over my life to let you in, I can't help you. If you don't know how much it hurts me NOT to say those words, then you're not the person I thought you were. 

And if you don't know what it would do to me to SAY the words, then you never knew me at all. 

Okay, that makes nine double shots, and you're still in my head. Let me try a trick...not that one, he's too short. Not that one, he's your type, not mine. Ten double shots. Fuck-- I'm going to have to start moving to triples if they don't kick in soon. 

I have to find something a little stronger, so I'll be able to sleep when I get home. I don't need this tonight, I just want to go and crash. Hmmm, these pills usually take about twenty minutes to kick in, and these ones take ten...umm...it's a ten-minute drive, so...better take a couple of each. Make that a few. Drink to wash them down, and see? All better. 

I'm getting out of here. God fucking dammit Justin, I never said never, I said not right now. I wanted time. Well, I guess the joke is on me, I've got all the fucking time I'll ever need now. 

I just want to sleep and get you out of my head.


	6. Part 6

And everybody knows that the Plague is coming  
Everybody knows that it's moving fast  
Everybody knows that the naked man and woman  
Are just a shining artifact of the past  
  
Everybody knows the scene is dead  
But there's gonna be a meter on your bed  
That will disclose  
What everybody knows 

 

I've seen Brian in a lot of compromising positions. He really doesn't have any shame in the traditional sense of the word. 

My son was kind enough to draw me pictures of anything I hadn't seen in person. Frankly, I don't think any mother wants to see pictures of her teenaged son with his thirty-year-old lover, but they're always mixed in with the other sketches he does. He'll throw me the book, saying, "Hey, there's a good one of Molly in there," and before I realize it, I've passed a dozen sketches of them in bed together. I've never gotten the impression that he knows I look at them, but then again, how could he not know? 

He must be proud of the pictures-- they really are beautiful...as long as I can forget that the pale blond being loved so vividly is my baby boy. Those sketches show a depth of emotion that jumps right off the page. Of course, there are other pictures of the two of them in there as well-- walking, eating dinner, just sitting together. These pictures are nice, too, but they really aren't anything more than journal entries. It's the drawings of the two of them making love that are really alive-so alive I can practically feel them moving. 

If I hadn't seen the sketches, those images of their life through Justin's eyes, I'd never have believed that he was truly in love. I'd have chalked up his pursuit of Brian as a teenaged crush, and then ushered him off to a good college far away from his sometime playmate. 

He's so young. He tried to make a life with this man, but when the going got tough, he just couldn't handle it. He's a mature boy, but you need twice the maturity to deal with a person as closed and damaged as Brian can be. Brian didn't come with an owner's manual, so Justin has had to struggle and fight to build something that they can both live with. 

We shouldn't have let Justin anywhere near Brian. Justin was never the one who needed protecting. Brian is scared of love, maybe because it has only ever brought him pain. His lifestyle is obviously his weapon and his shield. Justin slipped underneath the armour, or around it, or right through it. I don't know. But he loved Brian and because of it, took away his choices. Justin decided that they were together, and there was no room for argument. I'm not surprised; Justin is strong. 

Brian is not. 

He still hasn't woken up yet. Melanie is off somewhere dealing with doctors and paperwork. She told me everything that was happening, but I don't think I was even listening to her. I've been watching him through the door of his room, praying that the drugs will wear off soon and he'll be okay. Justin needs for him to be okay. 

He looks like shit. I'm sorry, there aren't any other words for it. He's so pale and drawn looking, and his mouth is covered with that black charcoal they use to absorb the drugs in your stomach. The doctor told me that his tox screen came back with positive hits on just about everything they tested for. They're treating this as a definite suicide attempt, complete with a psychiatric evaluation, when he wakes up. I honestly don't think he meant to die, but still, he could probably use the analysis. Sending Brian to a psychiatrist is a funny thought, though. The poor doctor won't get anywhere unless Brian wants him to, because trying to get into Brian Kinney's head is like trying to push a lemon through a brick wall. It's messy and pointless, and something always ends up getting damaged in the process. 

He's opening his eyes a little, so I move into the room and stand next to the bed. His face is sweaty, but when I take his hand, it's hot and dry. I sit beside him, and he doesn't pull away. I'm not sure if he knows why he's here, or what he remembers. He whispers something to me, and I lean forward to hear him. 

He tries again. "I feel like shit." I smile then, even though I shouldn't. Brian's not okay, but he's going to be. Mothers can tell these things. 

"You've looked better," I reply sweetly, but so carefully. He's always on self-protect mode, and it's best to walk softly when he's around. 

"Thanks, Jennifer." I think he means that. "So, where's the rest of the brigade?" He's still slurring, and his eyes are closing even as he tries to sit up. There's an anxiety there that I can't place. 

"Nobody has been here to see you but me." Okay, so I lied about Justin, but now is not the time. "Melanie is downstairs doing paperwork and talking to some doctors for you. That's it." I get up to bring him a warm, wet washcloth. He needs to wipe away that black junk, it's revolting. 

He takes the cloth and swipes at his face, frowning at the black marks. You can tell nothing is really getting into his head right now. "You didn't tell anyone?" he says, looking surprised. 

He forgets how many of his secrets I really keep. 

"It's not my place, Brian. I figured I'd leave that to you." I start stroking his hand gently, trying to keep him still. He's still very drugged and looks defeated, like his soul has been drained. I should know - I felt the same way when I signed my divorce papers. 

"Thanks." It's an automatic response. "Call Lindsay," he says. He probably won't remember asking for her when she comes. 

I take the damp cloth away, dropping it as I try to arrange the stiff hospital sheets around him. He barely moves as I tuck and fold and pat. Being a mom comes with some automatic responses of its own. 

"Mel will want to talk to you soon. Why don't you go back to sleep?" I know it's weak, but after five or six hours waiting for him to wake up, it's all I've got. 

He doesn't answer me; he just stares blankly out the window. 

I think I know what he's remembering. 

I've seen the pictures. 

*** 

At first, I didn't know why Jennifer thought I needed to be here. Lawyers don't have a whole lot of say in hospitals. I'm probably more useful as designated bitch than I am for my legal expertise. I did manage to get him off of suicide watch, though. I don't buy him trying to kill himself over Justin. It's just not him. 

Jesus Christ, Brian Kinney in the mental ward. Of course, it's just a regular room right now, but still. I spent two hours arguing with the doctor over the wrist restraints ("It's not necessary, this was an accidental overdose. Being restrained will only make him panic. Yes, I'm sure he's not a threat to himself or others. Besides, isn't he basically unconscious?") Another hour passed while I was straightening out his insurance information. He was lucky to be put right into a private room; he won't be shuffled around before he's released. They won't say how long they want him to stay, but I'm pretty sure he'll be out of here the minute he can go. 

I was surprised that Jennifer is posing as Brian's mother, until she reminded me that there's no need to worry about his actual mother showing up. That's true. I can't imagine hurting Gus the way his mother hurts him, but I guess that's why they call her a bitch. I guess Jennifer has come to care about Brian, which is logical for self-preservation if nothing else. He's been fucking her teenaged son for a couple of years now, she might just as well get used to him. 

Justin isn't doing well, either. In fact, he's doing a passable Brian imitation, sitting in a courtyard outside with his head in his hands, not moving. Every now and then he looks up at Brian's window, but never for long. It's almost as if they're playing a movie on the floor, and he can't stand to miss it. I don't want to think about that movie, I'm pretty sure it's Brian and Justin porn. I've already seen more of that than I ever wanted to. 

Jennifer told me that Brian was awake, staring off into space when she left, so I guess I'll go in and get it over with. I have to see if there is anything he wants me to take care of. 

I walk into the room quietly. It's dark, but he's not asleep, just staring out the window. I wonder if he knows that Justin is outside doing the same thing. Jennifer asked me not to mention Justin, after what happened last night. I think that's bullshit-- Kinney has been nothing but a shithead to Justin since day one, and it's about time he got some payback. I like Justin, and I can't stand to see Brian hurting him like that. Of course, before last night, it never occurred to me that Justin might hurt Brian too. Besides, I have to remember that Jennifer is running this show, apparently with Brian's consent. I clear my throat to get his attention. 

He drags his eyes away from the window, and a small smile creeps onto his face. "Hey." 

Okay, who the fuck is this guy, and what did he do with Brian? "Brian? It's me, Mel." I cross the floor to stand on the right side of his bed, between him and the window. I need his attention for this. 

"Yeah, hi." He's staring intently at the cuff of my sweater. It's really not that interesting. I guess the drugs aren't anywhere near clearing his system. 

"I just want to clear some things up, if that's okay." No response; my cuff must be fascinating. "We need some information." 

"Sure." 

"Ummm...do you remember what you took?" 

He frowns, and I have to laugh at the absurdity of my question. He can't remember what he's taken on a good night, how the hell is he going to know now? I'm surprised to hear an answer. 

"I had a few drinks to wash down the yellow ones and the white ones." 

Jesus, Brian, that clears things right up. "Nothing else?" 

"Sure..." he says again, but his mind wanders before he finishes the sentence. 

"Okay, listen to me. They can give you an injection to help clear the drugs out of your system, but since the overdose isn't threatening your life right now, you have to consent." He suddenly looks up at me, and he's so wasted that the pain and hurt are right there. I have never seen those emotions in his eyes before. I can't believe I pity him. 

Dammit, Mel, stop it. Just stop. Don't feel so sorry for him. 

"No." He's still in a daze, but very forceful. "Leave me alone." 

I try again. "Brian, they have no idea how long it will take the drugs to clear." The doctor had explained that part to me in detail, as if I were the one feeding him lethal combinations of drugs in the first place. Brian was still so full of pharmaceuticals and alcohol that his liver could take days to work through them all. "They won't let you out until you're sober again." 

"Don't care. Where's Lindsay?" 

I look at him closely. He's trying to see through me, to look at the window again like it has a secret message written on it. I feel so sorry him, for anyone who has to be drugged almost to death to admit that he needs someone. No, that he loves someone. I feel bad for him, but I feel worse for Justin. How must it feel to love someone with your whole heart and never get a tenth of it back? If Brian needs to be this fucked up to feel something, then Justin never really had a chance. 

He looks right into my eyes and for one second I see the Brian Kinney I know and hate. He has a message for me. 

"Don't blame Justin." 

It's the last lucid thing he says for four hours. 

*** 

I sat with Jennifer while we waited for Brian to wake up again. She's a lovely woman, and I've always thought so. I hope to be that kind of mother, calming and steadfast. Gus will know he can always count on me, just like Brian does now. 

His room is cool when I walk in. The door isn't closed; the staff tells me they rarely close the doors except at night. Brian doesn't seem to notice anything; he's staring out the darkening window and doesn't even move when I walk towards the bed. I take his hand and squeeze it gently. He looks over to where I am and motions to the bed. 

"Hey Linds, come sit with me." I've never seen him look so tired...not even the last time he overdosed. That was a stupid college mistake, though, and he bounced back quickly. Right now, he's still slurring a bit, which I'm pretty sure is not really a good sign. 

I walk over to the bed and sit carefully on the edge, not wanting to disturb his IV. He gives me a wan smile and pats my leg. "How did you know I was here?" 

Hmm, he doesn't remember asking for me. Mel was right, he's still pretty messed up. I brush his hair back off of his face and kiss him on the forehead. 

"You asked for me, sweetie, a couple of times. Are you feeling better?" I feel his cheek. He's warm, but not sweaty anymore. 

"I don't remember feeling worse." He's gone back to staring out the window, and he looks so lost and confused. I've seen this face on Gus before, when we wash his teddy bear and he wanders around the house looking for it. 

"Did anyone tell you what happened? Why you're here, I mean?" If anyone is going to tell him, it should be me. 

"The shrink said something about an overdose. Shit, I can't believe I did that again." He's picking at the blankets, and I'm sure he must still have something in his system, because it's like I'm talking to the old Brian. College Brian, when you could still get a straight answer out of him sometimes. 

"Well, honey, you were upset. It happens. Do you remember what set you off?" I'm pretty sure I shouldn't excuse his behaviour like that, but I'm trying to be gentle. Is there a gentle way to remind someone that his lover has cheated on him? 

He stares into space across the room, and sighs. "He's gone." 

I don't know what to say to that. To be honest, I didn't see anything last night that couldn't be fixed by a good long talk and maybe some counselling, but asking that of Brian would be like asking him to walk to the moon. Still, I feel the need to say something, and I'm surprised at what comes out. 

"I don't think he's gone forever, Brian. You hurt him. You backed him into a corner. He couldn't do anything else." 

He looks up at me, and he's wounded, but I can't stop. He's not the only arbiter of truth in our little circle. 

"YOU wouldn't have put up with your behaviour lately! He forces you to take a step forward, and you take one back just to spite him. He gives and gives to you, and you just take and take without returning anything." 

He'd be angry now, if he weren't still drugged up to his eyeballs. "I gave him everything he wanted. I gave him my home, my friends, my money, and my bed. He took everything I had to give." 

"You gave him what he needed to survive, but not what he needed to live. He needed to feel loved, Brian. We all need that. You'd give with one hand and take away with the other-- he never knew where he stood." 

"That's bullshit." He's slowing down now; the drugs are trying to take him again. "He made the rules. It's not my fault that...he changed them...in his head...and didn't...tell me." There's a yawn, then another. This may be the first time in history that Brian has been ready to sleep at 8 p.m. 

"I'm not saying that he's not partly at fault. I'm saying that you're not giving and taking equally. You give all the material things, he gives all the emotion, and you call it even. That's not a healthy relationship." I pat his hand, I should really get going and let him rest. "Just think about it. You didn't think you really needed him, but how do you feel now?" 

"G'night Linds." He's almost out again, and his eyes are closing even as he's talking. 

I lean in for a goodnight kiss, whispering in his ear so that hopefully he'll think about it in his sleep. "Brian, if you don't love him, then why do you have a broken heart?"


	7. Part 7

I've been dreaming about him all day.

It's not really dreaming, it's hallucinating. I'll be looking out the window, and I'll just know he's out there. Or I hear him talking to Jennifer in the hallway. Or I see him walk past my door. I'm thinking of him and how he's walked away from me forever, and then he comes right through my door. 

I'm dreaming. 

"Hey" he whispers, and since he's never talked to me before, I think he may actually be here. Fuck. I want to hate him. I want to be angry, but I'm too tired. I'm so tired that I'm actually starting to wonder how much I had of whatever it was that I actually took. 

He whispers again, "You okay?" He's just inside the door, hidden in the shadows now in case someone walks by. I'd love to know how he got in here. This kid has stalking skills that rival the KGB. 

What do I say? What can I say? "I can't go anywhere without you showing up." 

"No, you can't." He smiles a bit, but it's a front. Another step into the room, and I can see how miserable he looks. He's tired. I'm tired. 

I guess everybody's tired of this. 

"So, how'd you get in here?" I ask, and I'm not kidding about wanting to know, either. It's almost midnight in a crowded hospital. Don't the nurses on this floor turn into Visitor Nazis at 8:30? Is he a ghost, a figment of my imagination? 

"It wasn't that hard." He's kicking at the floor with his sneaker toe, and I decide that he's real. I try to focus on his eyes in the darkened room. "Besides, I stayed here forever, remember? They shouldn't let people stay if they don't want them to learn their secrets." 

Fuck. Words to live by if I ever heard them. 

He takes another step into the room, and this close to the bed, I can see in the light coming through the doorway. His hair is a mess and his face is covered in tear tracks. He's so beautiful. 

I fucking hate him so much. 

"I've been thinking about this all day. I just want to say one thing, and then if you want, you'll never have to see me or think about me again." 

Sure, kid. That's how I got here in the first place. I may eventually find a place where I won't see you, but I can't not think about you, goddammit. But I can't really say that… so I just nod. He takes a deep breath and starts talking. 

"I should never have done that, I mean, the whole Ethan thing. It's was shitty and wrong, and I'm sorry." He pauses for me to insert the punch line, "Sorry is bullshit, Justin," but I can't be bothered. He sighs and takes another step towards the bed. 

"A man would have told you what was wrong. I guess I just thought somehow you'd know how I felt. I could have told you how unwanted and unloved I felt sometimes. I should have asked for the things I needed and not let the little things pile up like that." 

"Justin, enough. Leave it alone." Don't fucking drag me through all of this now. 

"Why? I know I've got nothing to lose, because you're telling me I've already lost. Fine, I can accept that, but I want to say this. It can't hurt anything now to tell the truth." His face is turning red, he's angry. I hate it when that happens; because then he starts making speeches. Long speeches. 

"Says who?" Fuck, I'm too tired to do this. 

"I felt so alone! I threw a little tantrum about your business trip, and you just took off. You didn't even call me when you got to Chicago! You could have joined me in Vermont-- it wouldn't have killed you to meet me there." He's knotting his shirt in his hands. No wonder his clothes get all stretched out. 

"I'm not having this argument again." 

"Fine then, just listen. You didn't tell me how important that trip was to you! How was I supposed to know you were trying to save your job and not just fucking with my head?" 

"I seem to recall saying pretty much that exact thing." 

"Well, an explanation would have been nice. You don't tell me you're up for partner one day and losing your job the next, it didn't make sense to me. I didn't know what the hell was going on! I felt shut out, like I didn't know you and didn't even have the right to try. Then you got me that..." his nose wrinkles in distaste, and I know what's coming up again. "...hustler for my birthday, and I knew you didn't know me, either." His eyes are watering, but he's not crying. Not yet, but I know it's on its way. He cries at the drop of a hat...or maybe I just always make him sad. 

"I didn't go out looking for Ethan. I met him at a time when I needed to hear that I'm beautiful and wonderful and special to someone other than my mom and Deb." He shakes his head. "He made me feel like somebody. I knew he was feeding me lines, but it was nice to hear them. It felt good. The problem is, I wanted to hear them from you." 

Shit, that's some monologue he's got going there. I think he's said more about his feelings in two minutes than I have in my entire life. He's crying now, and his eyes look so blue when they're wet. This isn't my fault. I don't want listen, don't want him to be sorry. I just want him to hurt. 

"Why isn't Mikey here?" There, that's a kill shot, or at least it used to be. Nothing pisses him off more than switching the topic to Michael in the middle of a fight. I want him to think that I'm thinking about somebody else now. He wipes his eyes with his sleeve and starts rattling off the list. 

"Mom didn't know who to call, so she told me to call Mel. She's doing your paperwork. You saw Lindsay, you know she'd never call anyone without your permission. As for me..." his voice hitches with a sob, and he coughs to get it under control. "I don't really have the right to say anything about you to anyone anymore, do I?" 

His eyes start to run again. Fuck, he's really losing it. I reach out with the hand that isn't tied to the IV, and he takes it. If he doesn't calm the fuck down, they're gonna throw his ass out of here. 

I don't want that. 

He's still holding my hand, and I'd think he hadn't moved if I couldn't feel his finger stroking the inside of my wrist. Bastard. He's got some nerve thinking he can seduce me after everything he's done. Fuck-- he's a man after my own heart. Which is the problem. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I'm torn between being angry and wanting to take a shot at something I may not get near again. 

I don't know what I want this to be, but suddenly I know I want to look him in the eye and know that he doesn't pity me. 

I tug his arm, and he falls towards the bed, landing with his free hand beside my shoulder. "This place gets so lonely at night." His face is two inches away from mine, and I can read him like a book. He's hurt. He's suffering. He's sorry. And he wants me. 

Right now, that's enough. 

I grab the back of his neck and pull him to me. He gasps when I shove my tongue in his mouth. I want to tell him so many things, how he used me and hurt me and scared me out of my fucking mind. How I didn't want to need him anywhere but in my bed, but he fucking made me and he can't take that away now. 

But I can't say that, so I do what I always do. 

He responds quickly, but it's different than before. I thought I'd fucked him in every way possible, and for every reason: passion, desire, pure unadulterated lechery. Anger management. Pain relief. We've done it for fun and because we're bored and have time to kill. We've done it in backrooms and bathhouses and absolutely everywhere else we've been together for half an hour. 

We've even argued during sex before. You know, little things crop up, and it's best to get them out of the way. "You left your wet towel on the floor" and "You didn't call to say you'd be late" are just part of life, and frankly, we'd don't have time for bullshit like that. If we didn't say it in bed, it would never get said. I really thought we had done and said everything already. 

I was wrong. We have never, ever had sex because I needed to feel like he loves me. 

Not until now. 

*** 

Brian gestures towards the door, and I go over to close it. My heart is pounding. I didn't really expect him to let me in, but he's still woozy. I think his defenses are down. I don't know if we're doing the right thing, but I can't just leave without even trying. 

I peek out the door, but the halls are deserted. We're so far from the nurses' station; you practically need a bus to get here. That's good. Hopefully we'll hear them coming before they hear us coming. 

The door closes with a tiny click that just sounds so…final. I look at the clock. Time is running out, we need to do this. I need to do this and get it done, or I won't ever get the chance again. 

The room is darker now, but there's still a small night light beside the bed. His head is back on the pillow, but he's still looking at me, waiting. I think I'm running the show now, and dammit, I'm not ready for that. I cross the room to sit beside him on the bed, and he looks up at me. He's tired, and I've never really been in control before, not like this. I think I'm supposed to give him a chance to back out. 

"If we're quiet, there's an hour until bed check. Are you okay?" I ask nervously, knotting the sheets between my fingers. 

"Yeah. Come up here," he says, and I kiss him. I can't help it. He kisses me back, and just feeling his body heat through the blankets is sending shocks up and down my spine. I break the kiss and slip off my shoes so I can snuggle in beside him. He gives me the strangest look, like I'm trespassing or something, but since he doesn't say no, I don't move. 

"Who told you I was here?" 

Whoa, that's the million-dollar question. How do I explain that? I lay my head on his chest, hoping not to have to explain. It sounds so strange, I'm not sure even I believe it. 

"Justin." He grasps my chin in his fingers and lifts my head so that our eyes meet. "Who told you I was here?" 

Okay, here goes. I wish I didn't have to do this. "I just knew." 

He smirks. "So, now you're psychic? Charming." 

I knew this wouldn't go well. "No, I knew. I felt it. I knew something was wrong." 

"You've been doing too many comic books. This isn't Unsolved Mysteries. I want a fucking straight answer from you." 

I sigh and start tracing circles on his arm. "No, I felt it in my stomach, it was a horrible feeling. I knew somebody I loved was hurt. I went looking for Mom." 

He relaxes a bit. "Oh, so you called her and she told you." 

I shake my head. "No, I couldn't find her, and I was just about to go back..." Shit, Justin, don't say his name, not now. "Ummm...to go back to the loft when I suddenly just knew you were hurt and I needed to find you." 

He's still just looking, and it's that expression that I can't read, so I plunge on. "I had a feeling right here." I put my hand on his lower stomach, right above his cock. He raises his eyebrows, and I start massaging him while I try to explain. 

"Look, I didn't understand it myself until a couple of weeks ago. Ben was talking to Emmett one day about Tantric stuff, like different chakras and things. Ben says we all have seven chakras, places in the body where life forces live." I know he doesn't believe this stuff, and he's kind of stunned I'd bother to bring it up. Aside from the tensing from Ben's name, I'm not really getting any response, so I just plough ahead, rubbing his stomach a little more firmly. "This is the sacral chakra. This is where I feel us, Brian, not in my head or my heart, but here. When you're around me, it tingles. When we're fucking, it burns." 

I'm rewarded with a sneer I haven't seen in a really, really long time. He doesn't buy it, fine. I do. I may not understand much about it, but you don't have to be the Dalai Lama to know when something is true. I'm not going to stop until I'm done. 

"Ben said this is the part of the body where people hold sex and emotion. Everything I feel for you is right here, love and hate and fear and pain and envy and so much lust I can't stand it. When I got that weird feeling, I knew something really bad had happened to you." 

Shit. That smile that just showed up is bad. Very bad. He still doesn't believe me. 

"So you're saying you got a tummy ache and thought of me. That's so sweet." He says sarcastically. 

"No, I'm saying that WE are about sex and emotion and instinct. We overthink, or underthink, or just plain don't think most of the time. We suck at being normal and reasonable." I tap his stomach with the tips of my fingers. "This is the centre of everything we do right." 

"You sound like Ben." 

"He gave me words for something I already knew." 

He nods a little, but I don't know if he's agreeing or just humouring me because he's exhausted and wants me to leave him alone. He looks away and says, "So, you got an instinctive feeling and went with it." 

"Yes." 

"And it brought you right here." 

I don't know where this is going. "Not right here, but close enough. I had to make some phone calls." He hasn't moved, and it's not that he doesn't believe what I'm saying. He doesn't believe me, period. 

He shakes his head. "I don't believe in metaphysical bullshit." 

"I didn't read a book and decide this would make a good story, Brian! I needed an explanation for something I already felt." 

"Liar." 

Holy shit. Did he just say that? His eyes are cold, but his skin is hot. He's pissed, and I think he thinks I'm just trying to sweet talk him back into bed. Bastard. "I can make you feel it too." 

"Fuck off, Justin." He gives me a little shove, a kind of "get up and leave" signal, but I've felt that too many times before. I'm always getting pushed away, away from him and his bed and his life. If it's over, fine, but I'm not going down without a fight this time. 

*** 

He grabs my dick and tells me to close my eyes. Whatever. If it gets him out the door, then fine. He puts his other hand on that low spot on my stomach, just for a little pressure it seems. I'm not uncomfortable, but I want this over with. I'll take what I need and move on. 

The hand on my cock moves slowly, and I'm focusing only on the sensation, when he starts talking. He's talking about when we met and how scared and excited he felt when I took him to bed. What it was like to always be chasing me without knowing if he'd get anything out of it each time. He talks about a thousand dances at Babylon and I can't just focus on his hand or his voice, because they're all wound up together. 

We do have some good memories. 

He's talking about walking down the street that day after he got out of the hospital, and seeing me waiting for him, when I feel something. Not the usual something, but a little flip in my gut. It gets stronger the longer he talks. What the-- He's connecting the times we've fucked with his feelings...and with my feelings. Dammit, he was right, and I've felt this before. I'm just about to kick him out, when I see his face. Oh, fuck. 

He knows. 

Hi, I'm Brian Kinney, and I'm officially fucked. All it took was a ten-minute mind game from a teenaged ex-trick for me to admit to myself that I love him. I'm so fucked. 

Dammit, everybody knows. Everybody knew except me. 

*** 

We had to be fast and quiet. He's not all there in the mind, he's slow to react and a little woozy still. I think I've talked him into getting the rapid detox IV, but we'll have to wait and see whether or not he actually does to know for sure. 

"You didn't mean to do this, did you?" I ask, gesturing to thehospital room. 

"No. It was a stupid accident. I wasn't thinking." He looks into myeyes for a minute. "I wouldn't do this over anybody, Justin." 

"Good." I start running my fingers up and down his arm, but he'stoo quiet and there's something I still need to know. 

"So, was this goodbye, then?" I say, laying my head on his chest aswe nuzzle on the cramped bed. 

"Did it feel like goodbye?" he asks, evading the question. 

I decide to be blunt. "No, was it meant to?" 

"No." He's sleepy and quiet, but I'm not finished. 

"So where do we go from here?" 

"I don't know." He runs his fingers through my hair and sighs. "We can talk about that later." 

"Okay." I snuggle a little closer, then look at the clock. "I have to go, they'll be in here in a few minutes." 

He looks up, almost panicked for a few seconds, like the thought hadn't crossed his mind. "Stay for a while?" He's got this undertone, like, "Don't leave me again." 

"If I stay now, I'll get kicked out and it'll be harder to get back in. Just let me take off for ten minutes, then I'll stay the rest of the night, okay?" I look into his eyes, hoping he'll see the truth. I'm not going to leave him alone in this place. 

"Yeah." I'm slipping off the bed and picking up my shoes now, and he's watching me. I don't know what to say to make this easier, so I don't say anything. I'm over by the door before he speaks again. 

"Justin?" I turn back to see him, and he looks good. I mean, still tired, but good. Better than when I first came in. 

"Yeah?" I smile and make the "hurry up" motion with my hands. "I have three minutes to get my ass off this floor." 

He smiles back. "Later." 

"I'll be back," I promise, peeking into the hallway. I turn back for a second. "I love you." 

And then I'm gone. 


End file.
